


The Touch of Your Hand

by bravest_person_in_Wonderland



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Caretaking, F/M, Fever, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, No Beta, Tenderness, These two are softies, enjoy, here you go, i just wanted to write smth cute, oh yeah, so there's this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bravest_person_in_Wonderland/pseuds/bravest_person_in_Wonderland
Summary: The Doctor and Charley are (yet again) not having the best of days, and Charley's come out rather worse for wear.
Relationships: Eighth Doctor & Charley Pollard, Eighth Doctor/Charley Pollard
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	The Touch of Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> [dragonwings948](/users/dragonwings948/) has been listening through the Eight-and-Charley arc for the first time recently and it's basically just become a rapid and rabid back and forth of fanfics between us XP. This one lowkey got its idea from her last fic, [Yet Another Prison Cell](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25215163), except mine's a tad more whump-y, because what can I say, it's fun to write and makes for some great feels! So without further ado... *yeets fic into the depths of the Archive*

Charley shut her eyes for a long moment, ignoring the Doctor's muttered string of nonsense. Unless he had a way to get them out of this (very securely locked) cell, she really didn't care. She doubted the few locals they'd befriended had the means to get them out now that the Doctor had gotten on the bad side of the invaders of the week. And she had an awful headache. She pulled off her jacket and laid it on the floor of the cell beside her. 

"Charley?" The Doctor prodded her. 

She opened her eyes and looked at him. "Yes?" There was a worrying lack of focus to her eyesight.

"Are you alright?" 

"Yes." She paused. "Maybe." She was trying not to think too much about it, but she really wasn't feeling very well at all, hadn't been for a couple hours. Now that she was sitting, not running around with a bunch of vigilantes, it was more noticeable. She hugged herself as the Doctor crouched closer and placed a gentle hand on her forehead. 

"You've got a fever," he said, his eyes giving away his concern. 

Charley frowned, then shut her eyes again and leaned her head back against the wall. "Wonderful," she mumbled, wishing she was back on the TARDIS, preferably in bed. 

The Doctor touched her face again, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear. Instinctively, she leaned into his touch, the coolness of his hand against her flushed cheek a relief for the few moments it lasted.

She heard him shuffle around for a moment, and then: 

"Here," the Doctor's voice said. He took her around the shoulders and pulled her down until her head was laying on his thighs. "Get some rest, I can't see myself unlocking this door without my sonic anyway." 

By the time he finished speaking, Charley was already asleep. 

...

A short time later, the Doctor gazed down at Charley, still asleep with her head in his lap. Her hair was longer now than when they'd first met, he noticed. It almost reached her shoulders. Almost subconsciously, he reached out to stroke it out of her face again, frowning when he felt the warmth radiating off her skin. 

Even asleep, she turned her head a little bit toward his touch. Her brow furrowed and she made a small noise of discomfort. The Doctor didn't think her current illness was life-threatening, but that didn't stop him worrying. And either way, he didn't like seeing her unwell. 

He stroked her hair as she slept, wondering how they would get out of this predicament. Perhaps the locals they had been helping would help them escape, after all. Or the alien invaders would decide they weren't enough trouble to bother keeping locked up and would thus let them go. 

They would get out somehow, they always did. And in the meantime, Charley slept restlessly and the Doctor thought. 

... 

When Charley next woke, bleary-eyed and groggy and still not feeling her best, she was in her own bed on the TARDIS and the Doctor was reading in a chair next to it. Her lips curled into a faint smile as she closed her eyes and drifted back into sleep, peaceful this time.


End file.
